


kneel on my mattress

by IsleofSolitude



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Egypt, F/F, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Rimming, Rome - Freeform, mentions of cleopatra, sexual acts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsleofSolitude/pseuds/IsleofSolitude
Summary: Julius Cesar's death has left a power struggle in his wake. Aziraphale and Crowley, ever on opposite sides, meet at a party and choose to find other ways to pass the time.Written for Love and Lust through the Ages Volume II.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27
Collections: Love and Lust Through the Ages Volume II





	kneel on my mattress

"Hello, angel." The serpent's voice was not supposed to be anywhere near here, but as Aziraphale turned, her face lit up at the sight of her enemy regardless. 

"Crawley!" Crawley's hair looked lovely in the fashionable updo that Roman women were favoring, and her outfit was simply stunning, the long flowing lines illustrating her height and build. "How did you get an invite? I haven't seen you among Cleopatra's continue before. You aren't possibly with Antony, are you?" 

"Weeeeelllll, because of Antony perhaps, but he's not my stake in the game." Aziraphale took a moment to think it over, and then hid a gasp, moving closer. 

"Octavian! Oh dear, no, you should leave! They won't be happy to have one of his at their party."

"Oh, angel, you worry too much. I was invited, same as you." Crawley reassuringly patted the plump hand that had fastened onto her arm. "So, I still haven't had the pleasure of meeting the pharaoh; is she as cutthroat as they say?"

"Oh, well, i can't possibly comment on that..." Aziraphale thought of the woman in question, her spirit and her sorrows. "Her life...she's someone I wish I would meet at another time. She's solemn, fun, passionate..."

"Her siblings have a habit of dying." Crawley said sympathetically.

"Well, yes that's… she's a lovely conversationalist, this, it's this era. It makes people absolutely..."

"That's humanity, you mean. Speaking of, why are you here? Thought your lot was done with this whole nation."

"Reconnaissance, if you must know." 

"Reconnaissance." Crowley's voice, as it often did when they first ran into each other after decades, was ripe with mockery and sarcasm, but still laced with affection.

"Well, it has been some time since the, well, that is to say...''

"Since the plagues, yes yes."

"Yes, exactly, that. And so Gabriel knew that Rome and Egypt were getting close, so he assigned me to head on over and lay the land, so to speak."

" _ OF.  _ Of, for hell's sake angel, get the lay  _ of _ the land." Crawley wiped a hand down her face as she groaned out the correction, and Aziraphale felt her face flush.

"Oh, yes, of course. That does change the meaning quite a bit." Her hand was still on Crawley's supple arm, and she had no intention of moving it. 

"Any chance of an introduction then? I'll admit I'm quite curious about her."

Aziraphale thought about two of the most intelligent people she knew having a conversation, and felt the flush extend to her chest; seeing Crawley spar in any form with someone was always a delightful sight. She blamed it on the goblets she had washed down the exquisite cuisine with, and looked around. "Let's see if we can find our hostess then, shall we?"

The pair perused the party, chattering away (mostly Aziraphale, while Crawley interjected with her cutting observations and dry humor– it would take a few more bottles and a private room before Crawley got comfortable enough to do her long winded speeches) and enjoying the soups, stuffed pigeons, cheeses, and other delicacies.

"Oh, there she is!" Aziraphale finally spotted her target, a secretive smirk on that enchanting face as she tugged Antony out the door to the kitchens.

"What the blazes is she doing?" Crawley asked, amused.

"So… sometimes they leave the party early and go play pranks."

Crawley hummed. "Is that what they are calling it in these parts?" 

Aziraphale felt herself filled with affection for this ridiculous creature. "Hush, you menace." She looked around, then at her companion. "In lieu of meeting a queen, what would you like to do?"

* * *

Everything about the room was soft: the light the candles gave, the fabrics on the bed, the pillows that Aziraphale's hair rested on, the sound of their breathing.

But the softest thing, by far, was Aziraphale. Every inch of the newly revealed skin had Crawley's fingers itching to stroke across it, and since she was allowed to, she did– touched the collar bones, trailed from them to a shoulder, then down to the wrist, where she had to lay her lips and finish with her tongue. The gasps from that perfect mouth encouraged her, until she was laving those round fingers one by one, letting them know the feel of her tongue. Crawley's other hand relentlessly smoothed over the angel's shoulder, chest (avoiding the swelling softness there), and hip, clenching and releasing in no rhythm other than her whims. Crawley kissed her way back up the arm, unable to resist tasting the inner elbow.

Aziraphale shifted, her hands coming to rest at Crawley's narrow hips. "Crawley..." She giggled as the demon pressed her lips to Aziraphale's neck and blew. "What should I do, dear, how do you want me?" Her hands trailed up and dug into her lover's bony shoulder blades, even nails doing their best to leave marks as Crawley bit at the lobe of her ear, the start of her jaw.

Satan, this being was perfect, absolutely perfect. Crawley had until this moment wanted to bury her face in between luscious thighs, let Aziraphale straddle her face until her legs gave out, but now– 

Crawley pulled away, hands tugging and pushing Aziraphale. "Like this, up, c'mon angel, on your knees." Once Aziraphale was on her hands and knees, breasts swaying and hips ripe for the taking, Crawley took a moment to just admire.

"Like this?" Aziraphale's voice was hesitant, shy, and utterly devastating.

"Yessssss." Crawley scooted closer, draping herself over the angel, one hand resting on Aziraphale's leg, tracing it gently. "Just like this. I want to just curl up around you, feel every warm inch of you as I make you happy."

Aziraphale let out a stuttering breath, pushed back against her. "Oh, darling, is that so?" She shifted again. "And when do you plan on doing that, you foul fiend?"

Crawley smirked, pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, and let her hand reach its destination. "Now." On cue, her fingers dipped into the wet cunt awaiting her, just a simple touch to explore. 

The sound Aziraphale made was the best reward, and she kept her fingers light, the emphasis on just  _ touching _ , enjoying the sensation of Aziraphale quivering around her, below her. The angel's hair smelt of expensive oils and brisk winds, and had this been drunken, sloppy sex Crawley would snuggle close, let it envelop her until she could forget brimstone and swamps. 

But it wasn't about that tonight, it was about moments: creating memories of soft skin in this lambent room, making marks on each other's bodies and souls to make the lonely years less painful. And so Crawley kept her pace steady and barely there, until Aziraphale was panting, trying to hide the way her body chased the long fingers. "Give me a kiss, angel."

Aziraphale turned with a shattered "please", hips still but torso straining towards her, and Crawley eased them into a long kiss, waiting until her fingers began to circle the angel's clit to deepen it. 

The wax melted, and melted, and melted.

It was a very long time before Crawley broke the kiss, began to move her hand enough for Aziraphale to gasp. She pressed open mouth kisses down the angel's spine. Knowing how much the angel enjoyed her fangs and split tongue, she made sure to showcase them on the most sensitive of skin. 

"Ah, ah, Crawley, what...?"

Crawley sucked a bruise into the dimple of her back. "Indulging you, that's what."

"Ah, well, if you insist..." Aziraphale caught on quickly, steadying herself. 

Another night, in a different room, there would be a sharp smack, and Crawley would watch her ass jiggle, bounce, see a red mark forming. But that wasn't what tonight was about, so she bit down, just once, pressed a kiss there, hoping Aziraphale felt her promise of a next time. 

Going to her knees briefly, she kept one hand in Aziraphale, and used her other to spread the globes of Aziraphale's arse. Any scent of Aziraphale's was enough to make her mouth water, but it was so much thicker here, so heady and intoxicating. Crawley may be a fool, may be too clever for her own good, but she had never been one to resist a gift. 

And what a gift, she thought deliriously as she licked the tight muscle, keeping the pace of her hand and her tongue off beat. She heard Aziraphale start whimpering, felt her balance shift as she covered her mouth to keep the keening wails from blowing out the candles. Crawley wanted to pull off, to tell her to let it all out, to scream until she was hoarse and Crawley deaf, but the thought of pulling away, even for a second, from this taste was unthinkable. She wanted to rut against the mattress, give herself some relief, but Aziraphale was warm and moaning, wet and dripping and being the cause of the muffled sounds she was making was too addicting to contemplate anything that wasn't giving her  _ more _ .

"Crawley!" The sheer desperation in the angel's voice had the demon taking mercy on her, letting her tongue and hand match up, letting Aziraphale take what she needed until she was shaking apart. She screamed soundlessly, her release wild and breathtaking. Wings burst into being, the candles extinguishing as they did. Crawley pet her through the long aftershocks, until she eased herself down, Crawley crawling back up her body to snuggle close, a wing fluttering to rest atop her as the two caught their breath.

"Oh darling, that was exquisite." 

Aziraphale's hand crept down to Crawley's chest, covering one bosom. "Shall I return the favor?"

Crawley caught the hand and lifted it to her lip, pressed her lips to the fingers reverently. "Nah, angel, I'm fine. " Even with no moon, Crawley could see Aziraphale's scepticism, so she turned the hand, and to the palm she pressed a lazy, lingering kiss as she tugged the angel closer. "Tell you what, you can make it up to me next time if you see a need to."

There was always a next time, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a collab with Bilarzo, i'll add a link to their artwork as it is posted.
> 
> Cleopatra and Antony used to sneak out of parties and play pranks on citizens. i just think that's neat.


End file.
